Freedom
by hannahloveserik
Summary: Future AU. Christine is left, locked up in an asylum. Erik Destler has plans for her, large plans, however she has plans of her own. After spending all her life searching for freedom, she's finally finding the strength to fight back. A search of hope, finding love and of course- fighting for freedom.
1. Chapter 1

hello lovely readers, welcome to Freedom. I do not own any of the characters in this story. All belong to leroux, Kay and ALW. A short starter chappie.

**read and review!**

**Chapter one**

_I have a new roommate. They are moving in soon_.

I stare around the dismal cell of a room and open my mouth. The words remind me of happier times, when I felt alive.

They say its so I'm not isolated anymore. They say its so they know I will be on my best behaviour. But I can see it in their eyes. They're disappointed I hadn't died sooner.

I remember arriving there, to the school, back when it was happy. Back when the trees were green and birds flew in the sky. I went there with papa, but he is gone now. Gone to wherever the souls go. I'd like to think that someday he'll help me get out of this hole, and send me the angel. I remembered when they looked at me in concern, my face pale and gaunt, and myself constantly chattering about the music inside of my head. I almost snort out loud. No wonder they locked me up in here.

Drifting off into slumber, I jolt awake when I hear the door of my cell- room- being opened carelessly. It squeaks and moans, showing how little it has been opened in the past three years. However, what shocks me most is the fact that there in the doorway is a boy.

A boy.

Oh god.

They want to kill me.

He is young and attractive, with blonde hair that is slicked back with gel. His eyes are a brilliant shade of dark blue with a strong jawline and a lean muscled frame.

I stare in horror as I look into his eyes. Dear god, how could I ever forget those eyes. He sizes me up, before spinning around in the room, getting a better taste of his new 'home'. He looks at my bed to his before walking casually over and pushing my bed next to his. He sprawls out over both the mattresses and stares at me expectantly. _What does he want me to do? _The intensity of his stare brings back memories of a little boy I knew a long time ago.

It couldn't be, could it?

"So, what's your name?" He asks lazily, popping a piece of gum in his mouth, that they must have missed during the search.

My mouth is dry. I can't answer him even if I want to- I don't.

"Right, you don't talk much do you?" He speaks again, and I can only sit with my mouth agape listening to him. "Well, I'll tell you my name first then you follow, ok?"

I want to interrupt him there. Tell him I already know his name. Tell him I have been in love with him since I was seven. Standing on the beach, clutching desperately to his hand; but instead I stay silent.

"My name is..." He pauses.

I can only think one rational thought.

_Raoul_.

"Raoul de Chagney." I stare at his hands, unable to look at his face as I know I'll give myself away.

"So what's your name?" he asks looking at me, analysing me. I want to crawl into my corner and never come out. I look at him fearfully and say nothing. If I hear my name in his mouth, I may cry and never be able to stop, drowning in the raindrops of my sadness.

It was that night, once I was tucked on the floor as Raoul had the two beds, I finally decide to talk.

"Raoul." The words were raspy. I wince as I think what my singing voice will sound like now. "My name...my name is Christine Daae." Maybe, just maybe I can make a friend out of my new cellmate.

I can hear the smile in his voice. "Goodnight Christine Daae, sleep well."

I can't find it in me to reply. So I don't say anything.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Read and review. I Appreciate it lots_**

_"Papa, look!" A girlish giggle as she watched a lone bird swoop in the sky. They were dying out, but she didn't need to know that. Her blonde hair fell down her back in ringlets, and her blue eyes gazed at the sky in wonder._

_"Now Christine, I want you to promise your papa that you will be a good girl in here." He looked at her tenderly, until a cough ripped its way out of his throat, making him wheeze and pant. Of course, the little girl didn't understand, she thought that her papa would be fine. She didn't know she wouldn't be alone forever. She thought, she thought, she thought. Suddenly the little girl transformed becoming four years older, with hair to her waist and eyes to big for her slowly, paling face. _

_"Christine," her papa let out a wheezing splutter. "Promise me child, you will continue to sing. Sing only for emotions, sing for the angel. Sing only for him. And when I am in heaven, child, I will send him down to you. You will be safe. I promise." She watched the life drain from his pale blue eyes and his last breath fade into the carbon dioxide around the room. "No papa!" She whimpered. "NO."_

"Hey! Woah!" I wake sweating and crying to the boys voice. "It's okay, you're safe. You're fine. It'll be okay, it was just a dream."

I feel him brush a piece of hair from my clammy face, and I weakly protest. "You can't touch me."

"Why?" I crack my eye open to find him staring at me, and for a moment I delude myself into believing he remembers me too. But then I realise that nobody remembers me, that's why I am in here.

"You just can't." I mutter, pushing up off the floor using my hands. I curl into a ball, willing him to go away, when breakfast arrives. It is dog food chugging through a cat flap. Raoul rums straight over to grab the food and I can already see the disaster growing.

"Don't touch it!" I shout, uncurling my pathetic frame and standing up. His eyes narrow and he looks at me, he clearly thinks I mean it as a sign of power in this lonely room.

"Not yet, anyway." I finish. "They make it too hot, always too hot. Sometimes I wonder if they do it on purpose, to get a kick out of seeing us crazy people suffer." He looks at me thoughtfully, running his eyes up and down my body. I wonder what I look like. I haven't seen myself in three years. I don't want too.

"You're not crazy though, are you?" He sounds sure but desperate, and I want to hold him and kiss him and cry.

"I don't know anymore. I've been here so long. I don't even know who I am anymore." The burn of tears threaten my eyes, and I clench my fists willing them away.

"So why are you here?" I ask him, wishing he would take the hint and change the subject.

He shrugs, then scratches the back of his neck with his hand.

"I...uh, I set a few places on fire. Places the oligarchy needed the advertisements to be."

"Oh," I simply nod my head, grabbing my tinned breakfast. I was thirteen when the oligarchy began to preach. From what I remembered, it was basically a group who had lots of minions to do their dirty work for them.

"And you?" I hear him ask.

"Oh, well..." I pause, staring at the lumpy contents of the tin. "I...three years ago, my father died. We lived at the music place -what was it called?"

"The one at the old opera house?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Anyway...after he had gone, a part of me died with him. I used to sleep and hear music, haunting music. Music so achingly beautiful, I'd wake screaming. It got so bad, they sent me to a doctor and he brought me here. No explanation or anything. They just stuck me in this room and locked the door. Days went by where I would sit and scream at the door, for help, for a friend, for anything really. Eventually they stuck a girl in with me, I can't remember her name. But it was only temporary. Now _she_ was crazy. After her, there was nobody. Until you." I give him a small smile.

We sit the rest of the morning in silence.

**xxx**

"Oh!" I gasp as a butterfly flew into the crack of the window. The owners of this place had decided that if the windows were open too much, people would consider suicide as an option, and if they were shut too much, people would roast in their cells in the summer.

It stumbles in, brown, red and black creating vivid patterns on its wings.

Butterflies are like people, I believe. No matter how ugly they are on the outside, they are breathtakingly beautiful on the inside. I capture it in my hands and watch it slowly creep around, feeling the light hair on my fingers, and the round heel of my hand. I smile and laugh lightly. I look up excitedly to Raoul, only to find him staring at me. Feeling stupid and self conscious, I look back down at the butterfly, using my long blonde hair as a barrier between us, and to hide my blushing face.

"That's the first time I've seen you smile." He states, blue eyes glowing.

But it's not, I want to tell him. On the beach, when we were seven, don't you remember Raoul?

But instead I smile again, and guide the butterfly over to the window enjoying the peace and serenity.

Maybe I'm not as lonely in the world as I thought I was.


	3. Chapter 3

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I look over to Raoul. He is sitting on my bed. He is reading a book. I glance away when he looks at me

"They're going to get rid of the English language, y'know?"

I nod. Nothing they can do will surprise me anymore.

I hate Raoul for being here, yet at the same time I wish for his company.

I hate for him to see me like this; vulnerable and crazed from the loneliness.

I hate him.

I love him.

The door crashes open and six people swarm into the room, rifles pointed at our chests.

Raoul is up on his feet instantly, yet I cannot move. I haven't seen so many people in so long, I'm momentarily stupefied.

"HANDS UP ON YOUR HEAD, FEET APART, MOUTHS SHUT. DON'T MOVE AND WE WON'T SHOOT YOU."

I can't move. I'm frozen.

The one shouting the orders slams the butt of his gun into my back and I hit the floor.

"GET UP." A steel toed boot kicks me in the ribs and my breath falls out of my lungs. He clearly enjoys having the power. I'm swallowing nothing but the strangled gasps choking my body. "I said GET UP." The boot hits again, harder and faster.

I heave my body upwards, leaning against the wall. They've finally come to kill me.

That's why they put Raoul in my cell.

I'm leaving.

They forgot to kill me on time. That's why they are correcting all things wrong. They're going to kill me, because my seventeen years in this world were too long.

I cant breath.

My lips won't open to let air into my lungs. I'm choking. The floor is falling upwards. I can't do this anymore. I can feel the gun in my back dragging me somewhere, but my eyes are blind. I can't see, I can't breath, I can't hear.

I hope they kill me soon.

I open my eyes. There is stale food and a bottle of water set off to the side of me. My bones ache as I reach for them. Nothing seems to be broken, but the bruises are coloured blue and yellow, painful to touch.

I can't see Raoul.

A heavy metal door opens and a guard with a rifle across his chest looks me up and down.

"Get up."

I don't hesitate.

"Come with me." The guards voice is deep, his eyes hidden in the shadows underneath a cap. He looks young, about 22 with blonde hair, the edges just visible.

He looks at me fully and I notice his eyes. The shocking blue. God they're just like Raoul's.

No.

No, it can't be.

"Move." His eyes narrow and he nudges his weapon with his arm, clearly signifying he is not afraid to use it.

_Raoul is pointing a gun at my chest. Raoul is pointing a gun at my chest._

Raoul is a soldier.

I push my feet forward, for if I stay in the same position, I know I will never move. There are no words for this moment.

I am numb.

Raoul directs me down a narrow corridor, where I am lead into a room. There are guards everywhere. The moment I step in there, someone shoves me to the floor and puts their boot into my back. I whimper in pain.

"_Christine Daae_." A beautiful voice detonates my name. I am unable to lift my head because of the boot pressed into my back, so I do not know who is talking to me.

"Witten, dim the lights and release her. I want to see her face." The command is dangerously calm, effortlessly powerful.

The boot is removed and I slowly lift my head up.

I am met with polished black shoes, followed by suit trousers that seem to go on forever. He is wearing a shirt and tie, with cuff links and a black blazer. My eyes travel up his neck, seeing the large Adam's apple that definitely makes him a man. My sight flies up, expecting to see a flawless, unblemished face. But instead I see a mask.

A black mask that covers everything other than his mouth and chin. I can't breath.

I stare into his eyes, gold and breathtaking as he grins a crooked smile. Even through the mask you can see a strong jawline.

He is evil.

His suit is perfectly pressed and his dark hair is gelled back, despite a single piece that wants to rebel against his perfect lifestyle.

Like me.

I hate him.

"You're so stubborn, girl." His gold eyes bore into mine, and I can't find it in myself to look away. "You just don't want to cooperate, do you? Not with me or my men, but de Chagney is a different story isn't he?"

I flinch. The burn of betrayal blushes up my neck.

He looks amused at my discomfort. I squint to see a patch of multicoloured military mementos. His last name is etched into one of them: Destler.

Seconds pass of silence as Destler eyes between Raoul and I. I don't look at Raoul. I don't look anywhere other than him. A sudden thought creeps into my brain.

"Are you going to kill me?" I didn't mean to say it out loud and someone slams a gun into my spine all over again. I fall to the floor with a broken whimper, wheezing.

"That wasn't necessary, Lloyd." His voice has gone cold, however when he next addresses him, it is full of mock disappointment. " I suppose I'd be wondering the same thing if I were in her position."

I lay silent on the floor.

"Christine?"

I lift my head. He is stood with his fingers steepled, power radiated off of his being.

"I have a deal I want to discuss with you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, hope you guys are having a great summer. I just need to clear up a few things:**

**1) Christine does have blonde hair, and she is much like the Leroux and Kay version.**

**2) however Erik will be more musical based. When I created the first meeting between the two, I thought of Erik's mask as a Don Juan Triumphant mask, instead of the Kay mask, which Erik wears throughout.**

**R&R**

** ...**

"No," I said, willing my voice to stop shaking. "I will not marry you."

"I'm afraid, love, you have no choice. You were the only one alive in that utter hellhole. Besides, you're not even a lunatic. I checked extra carefully."

I feel my knees hit the floor, and hear the click of a gun behind my head.

"Oh god, why are you doing this to me?" I feel nauseous.

"Later Christine, you will join me for dinner and I shall tell you what is to be expected of you."

He eyes me with unhidden interest and I shiver.

"For now, De Chagney will take you to your room."

I follow Raoul silently, hoping, wishing he'd remember me.

He doesn't even look at me.

We arrive at a large wood door, I presume its oak, but the trees are running out.

"This is your room," Raoul says gently. He walks into the room and deposits his gun on my bed. "I'm not here to hurt you, Christine. I'm just following orders." He walks over to the wardrobe, opening it to reveal hundreds of dresses. He trails his hand lazily over the fabric, his hand finally settling on a deep blue, silk dress. It's beautiful. "If you want to get changed, I'd use the bathroom," he lowers his voice to a whisper, "It's the only place there isn't a camera."

I do as he says and pick a dress out of the wardrobe. I turn on my heel and head for the shower.

** ...**

7 minutes I am in the shower for. I know because it is so much time compared to what I got in the asylum. I scrub my self over again with a soap that smells fresh, and wash my hair over and over again. I don't look at my reflection in the mirror as I step out of the shower; I don't want to see myself. Slipping on the dress, I feel it slide against my torso and thighs. It wasn't the deep blue one, it is instead a soft white and it falls just above my knee. Finding a brush, I brush the snarls out of my hair, sending it straight down my back, instead of its usual ringlets.

When I emerge from the bathroom, Raoul is sitting on the bed, waiting. He spins when I cough lightly, and looks at me. What he sees must surprise him, as his eyes widen and his mouth opens. I wonder how much different I look to him.

"Destler wants you now, are you ready?" He asks, opening the door and walking out without a second glance at me. I trail behind him, taking note of the long corridor and dim lights.

We walk towards a bright light, and for a moment, my eyes go blind before adjusting.

What I see shocks me.

A huge table is set in a huge room. There is food everywhere, and yet I know that the majority of the world are suffering of starvation. A huge chandelier is hung above the table, in the centre of the room, gold and white and I begin to see a rainbow. I'm actually enjoying this. I see people; maids. They're scurrying around, getting final preparations ready before he arrives. Raoul ushers me into a seat, his voice more threatening than usual, but I realise its for show. The dining room slowly files in, Raoul is sat opposite to me and I am beside the empty chair at the head of the table. Other guards come in, always looking at me. Some grin at me and it gives me shivers up my spine; I don't know why.

When Destler arrives, (my stomach is rumbling so loudly) everyone stands up, except for me. I sit there and glare at him defiantly. His amber eyes shine back with amusement and irritation. He is wearing a different mask, one which shows half of his face. I'm surprised that he is actually attractive. With a strong jawline, the slightest bit of stubble and a thick brow, I am undeniably attracted to him, yet I hate him.

"Good evening, everyone." He lazily strolls closes the gap between us, and takes a seat at the head of the table. He smiles evilly at me, showing a perfect array of white teeth.

A light chatter starts as dinner is served, however Destler just stares at me, and I feel my cheeks grow warm.

When my food arrives, I stare at it. My frame is so emaciated, that if I were to eat this much food, I would be sick. However, I don't not eat it for that reason, I don't eat it simply because I hate this place. I hate the offer he has given me, and I hate him.

He notices I'm not eating, leans over and whispers in my ear, "do not mistake bravery with foolishness, love. You will eat because you have been starved."

A white hot fury blinds me as he orders me to eat. "I would rather _**die**_ than eat your food and listen to you call me love."

I realise the table is now quiet and I am standing up, slamming a fist against the fancy wooden table. Destler pulls out a gun and fires it, all the while looking directly at me. I break eye contact to see where the bullet has landed, and find it has lodged itself into the neck of a pig that was being brought out to eat.

"Sit down, Christine." I gaze at him with all the hatred I can muster, and risk a glance at Raoul. His eyes are pleading with me to do as he says. I eventually make my stiff feet move, and sit back down again, but Destler doesn't miss the interaction.

"Must de Chagney do all my work for me?"

"What?" I ask, flinching, looking at him.

"It's pardon, my love." He corrects, "Surely, you should listen to your fiancée more than your guard. I thought rebellion was your type of party, my dear." Sarcasm drips from his last sentence and I wince at the word fiancée. Instantly the table goes up into cheers and congratulations. I want to cry.

He pulls me up from the table, grabbing my hands. I almost pull back as his hands are long, bony and very cold; but pulling back is not an option.

I eat the rest of my meal silently, only managing a quarter of the plate.

"Are you finished?" He asks, wiping his mouth on a handkerchief at the table.

"Yes," I speak quietly, never looking away from my plate.

"Then you shall retire now." He states firmly, rising once more and pulling me from the table. I'm so tired. Raoul goes to stand up to take me back to my room, but Erik stops him, wrapping an arm possessively around my waist.

We step into an elevator and my brain is whizzing with questions despite my fatigue.

"What is your name?" It slips out.

He faces me, slowly advancing until I feel my back hit the wall of the elevator. His arms go to either side of my head.

"I mean, Destler obviously isn't a first name." I mumble, aware of how close he is.

He leans even closer - if possible, so his lips are centimetres away from mine, and chuckles. He smells like mint. "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours." His eyes are bright with a fire as he looks me up and down.

"What?" I whisper weakly, praying he will move away from me soon as I can feel my cheeks begin to flush.

"I _meant_, I'll tell you mine if you show me yours." His voice has taken on a low purr, but i hardly notice as his fingers are tracing my lips, and slowly make their way down to the column of my neck. He holds them there.

Is he going to strangle me in the elevator?

"Show you my what?" I manage to rasp out. My throat is dry with fright and some other emotion I do not know the name of.

"If you sing for me, Christine." He exclaims suddenly. As though he had been playing a game of surprise, but has grown bored of the guessing. He moves away as the elevator doors open, still keeping that stupid, stupid hand around my waist

"I-I don't sing."

"Nonsense! I know everything about you Christine Daae, and you can sing."

"I haven't sang in years. I'm no good." I protest feebly.

"Goodnight, Christine. We shall begin your lessons tomorrow." With that, he leant in and kissed me. It is the first real kiss I have ever received from a man. Too tired to push him away, I stand still. In a strange way, I enjoyed it. I spot Raoul outside my door and give him a soft smile as I walk past, into my room. To tired to even change, I got into bed and waited for sleep to hit me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Let me know what you guys think. Read and review. Not very long sorry!**

**...**

I wake up to find _him_ at the end of my bed. I jump and look round, expecting Raoul to be somewhere watching me; always watching me.

"He's not here." His tone is cold. I don't know why.

"Oh. Then why are you here?" I ask inching my way up to the head board, pulling the sheet up with me.

"Two reasons, love." He walks over and sits next to me on the bed. I feel so uncomfortable. "I'm here to give you your ring - no actually, that can wait until later. And I shall also be escorting you to the music room."

"Is Raoul not my guard anymore?"

His eyes harden and he growls. In the flash of an eye, I am underneath him on the bed. "You know," he spits, "I am beginning to get the feeling you prefer de Chagney's company more than mine." He bends his head, so his forehead is touching mine. If I didn't hate him so much, I would say it was an intimate moment. "I could make you forget," his voice has dropped to a whisper, "everything before you arrived here. Growing up beside the beach, meeting Raoul there-"

"How did you know about that?"

"He told me of course. That's the only reason why I assigned him for you. He said that he had met you before, but when you were a lot younger."

My heart is flapping wings against my throat. Raoul didn't forget me. Raoul didn't forget me. Raoul didn't forget me. He still loves me. It's hard to breathe.

"Here, I brought you some water." Destler places it on the side next to me. I drink it down in one. I don't care anymore if its poisoned.

"Get dressed, Christine. I'll get another guard - not Raoul, to bring you to me." His eyes are piercing into mine, and I nod. I am unable to breathe; rapidly breathing without an air supply. But then its over. He looks away from me and leaves the room. I shower and get dressed.

**xXx**

A different guard does take me down to meet him. This guard is different from Raoul, though. He shoves me down the hall until my anger is high and my pain tolerance is low.

"Can you stop pushing me, please?" I ask as nicely as I can under the circumstances. Instead of an apology and a smile, I get a snarl. He backhands me and punches me in my stomach. I double over in pain.

Gripping my hair, pulling my face towards his, I whimper in fright and pain. "Little girl, you may think you own this place because you can spread your legs wide enough for some of the people who own this place, but you can't get past us guards though. But I can see why you'd be useful for a nice little fuck, now and then." I almost vomit at his vile words. My back is against the wall and his knee has lifted me in place. I think - I think he's going to rape me. "Mmm," he shuts his eyes and I feel a scream build in the back of my throat. "I can just picture it now. Oh yes, now I understand." I whimper and slap him across the face.

"Why you little bitch, I'll fucking kill-"

"There you are, darling." I crumple to the floor as the guard throws himself away from me. My face is burning and tears are stinging my eyes. It's Destler. His hand are cradling my face and he scoops me up in his arms, like I weigh nothing. "I shall take it from here, sergeant. You are dismissed; I shall speak to you later."

"Yes, sir." I do not miss the crack in his voice.

We walk in silence for a few minutes before he places me onto something soft. I open my eyes, blinking away the blur, to find we are in another bedroom. I take in the gold and red colours surrounding me. There is a beautiful smell, obviously coming from the candle in the corner of the room. I haven't seen a flame in so long, i have to stifle the impulse to touch it. There is a huge wardrobe a deep burgundy colour and there is a large mirror, angled away from me. I am so tempted to look at myself, but I won't. The bed is huge, I think it could easily hold another two people in. The whole room had a strong and powerful aura to it, leaving me breathless. It's an altar; and I am the lamb.

"You like it?" He has stopped pacing and is gazing at me with a warmth in his eye.

"Yes, it's beautiful...whose room is it?"

"Mine." He walks over and sits on the other side of the bed, "though I must admit, I don't really sleep too well." He has pushed himself even more onto it, so he is creeping closer to me. "But perhaps that will change when you begin to join me."

"W-what!?" I choke on my own saliva and cough hysterically. I can feel my face flushing, yet the main reason is not because of my cough. Destler hands me a glass of water. I refuse to drink it. Is he implying that we'll-

"Yes, Christine. We will be sharing a bed." I glance up startled that he can read me so well. "Christine, I need you to tell me what happened in the hallway."

"No."

He's sitting right next to me now and his hand is moving towards my cheek. I flinch and turn my head. "Don't touch me."

"You need to tell me, love."

"Why?" I glare at him and he actually looks surprised and a little hurt.

"Isn't it obvious? I care about you."

I actually laugh. Laugh until my chest starts wheezing and I can't inhale. "Not good enough." It is spoken on my exhale. A blinding anger rips through me and i feel like i am going through an exorcism. "Your soldiers beat me! You keep me here like a prisoner! You threaten me! I think you've even threatened to kill me! You give me no freedom and you say you care about me?" I wish to throw the glass of water in his face. "I hate you."

"So much passion!" He chuckles, but then stands and clasps his hands together. I can only see the side without his mask, and notice his brow is furrowed. "I am only trying to help."

"Liar."

He looks at me for a moment before smiling wanly, "Yes. Most of the time, yes."

"Let me go."

"No."

"Why?" The tears are beginning to sting again, but I blink them back. I will not show weakness.

"Because I...well, I need you, Christine."

I feel the blush spreading on my face. "What for?"

This time there is no hesitancy in his answer. "To stand beside me as I control. My father thinks it is time I seek a bride. A beautiful girl to be my escort to social events." I must have been looking at him like a fish out of water, as he rubbed his temple with long fingers and sighed. "If our humanity were on a scale of the most powerful to least powerful: you would be at the bottom, and I the top.

"It was pure coincidence that my surveillance screen found your cell. And I watched you Christine. I watched you for months, waiting to hear you speak. Of course, you never did, but in all the time I had watched you, you hadn't acted like a lunatic. So then, when I mentioned it to the other men, Raoul was the only one willing to enter your cell. Then I heard you, Christine, and I knew why all your files had something to do with music; you are a living, breathing melody." His demeanour changes, "and a challenge."

"Let me go." I whisper.

"Drink your water, Christine." I do as he says and soon afterwards my head feels heavy and my eyelids are drooping. "Hate you." I mumble as I drift into unconsciousness. I feel his hand stroke my cheek and I feel adrenaline course through me.

Because I do.

I mean, I think I do.


	6. Chapter 6

**My thoughts are with everyone today. May the fallen rest in peace.**

**R&R**

I knock hesitantly on the door.

"Come in,"

The room I am in is breathtaking. All those years spent in solitude has made me crave the outdoors, but if I could stay here I would do so happily.

Destler is sitting at the large black piano, his hands resting on the keys. He glances at me and his eyes open long enough for me to notice he's surprised.

It's true. Maybe this dress wasn't meant for such trivial things, but for me, Destler giving me lessons again is daunting yet refreshing. I am wearing the blue dress Raoul's hand stroked the first time he showed me my wardrobe. It falls above the knee, the top half buttoned with a round collar. It has white frills on, and tiny white flowers.

"That dress," he coughs, as though he is actually uncomfortable, "that dress is beautiful. It compliments your eyes."

"What colour are my eyes?" I have to know.

He stares at me from behind the piano, a visible eyebrow quirked, in what I believe is amusement. "You don't know what colour your eyes are?"

"No." I shake my head, "I haven't looked in a mirror since before my father died."

"Good god, girl." He makes a funny noise of what i think is disbelief, through his nose, then instructs me to stand in the curve of the piano.

I feel the traitor butterflies run through my stomach.

"Now, we shall start with warm-ups, then you will sing me a song."

The warm-ups go surprisingly well, and I can't help but feel proud of myself.

"Now a song, Christine."

"I-I don't know many songs."

"Any song, Christine. I believe you know at least one."

"The birds lament." It reminds me of my father.

"Ah, a classic."

The sounds of the piano echo around the room, and I almost miss my cue - almost. My throat is raspy and raw; the warm-ups must have taken the strength from it.

"Keep going," he gently persuades. I find he is a wonderful teacher.

"Sit, Christine." I take a chair beside his seat at the piano. "We have a lot to work on, but for now I want you to take different elements of emotions and work it into this piece. A group of birds have mated for spring and yet, their love has gone. This is their calling to get them back. I know, as well as you do, there has been a lot of people in your life that has left you; but now you have me." My heart is hammering in my chest. I can feel the conversation beginning to take a nasty turn. "I wish to take you out for a ball of sorts, tonight, Christine. You can meet some of the people who help run the other sectors. And my father."

He suddenly grabs my hand and I try to ignore the f̶i̶r̶e̶ ice running through my body from that single touch. His eyes are like caramel; making me melt to his command. "You must promise me that you will wear my ring. If you wear my ring you will be my friend. The moment it leaves your finger, I'll know. Believe me, I'll know." The grip on my hand is now cutting my circulation off, his eyes have narrowed to slits of amber.

"I'll wear your ring, Destler."

He pulls out a small box, a gold band with three diamonds blink and blink and blink at me. He slips in onto my left hand, fourth finger, and I smile to hide my queasiness.

"Christine, I want you to call me Erik."

Erik

Erik

Erik

Such a mundane name, for an inhuman man.

"Go. Get ready. I'll have people to help you get ready. Look presentable."

"Oh, okay," I only nod as I turn to go.

"Blue-green, Christine." I frown and look at him.

"What?"

"Your eyes. They're blue-green. Exquisite."

I feel blood rushing to my face.

"Thanks."

**xXx**

My dress is beautiful. It is a blood red and falls straight to the floor. I stand tall on red shoes with heels, and i wonder how big I am now.

I wonder how I look now.

I wonder

I wonder

I wonder

Bracing myself against the armoire, I slowly make my way towards the mirror in the bathroom. I have been poked and prodded all morning by ladies. They pulled my hair off my face, applied things on my face, eyes and cheeks, and a red colour on my lips.

Clearing the mirror that is still fogged up from my shower that morning, a face appears.

It looks scared.

I touch my cheeks and look at the girl who is strange and yet familiar to me. My face is thinner, cheekbones more prominent than I last remember them, my eyebrows brown, seated above two large eyes, a mixture of both, blue and green. My lips are a glorious red, making me grin in satisfaction. My teeth; suddenly straight and white. My fingers are trailing the length of my nose, my jawline, the slight cleft in my chin when I see movement in the corner of my eye.

"Christine," he whispers. His breath is shallow; his eyes darting around. He seems almost nervous.

"Raoul." I say. I don't know if its a greeting, question or statement.

"You're so beautiful," he says to me.

I blush a shade that closely matches my dress and bring a shoulder up to my ear.

"Thanks," I say, my eyes returning back to my face in the mirror. I am swallowing the image, I am starved of myself. "I had forgotten," I rasp, turning to face him, "I had forgotten my face." I laugh, slightly hysterically, "what girl can forget their own face?" I feel the tears welling up.

"Shhh," he croons, turning me towards him. "No other girl is like you, Christine. And besides, just because you had forgotten your face, doesn't mean you had forgotten _you_." He wipes a stray tear away, and I am surprised at how different he is when there are no cameras about. "It's what's," he brings a hand to my chest, "it's what's in _here_ that counts. You're so beautiful."

My breath hitches as his lips brush softly across mine. My hand goes to my mouth in shock. "Raoul," I begin to giggle like the carefree child I once was, "you've smudged the red thing!"

He stares at me for a moment before his eyes widen with an emotion I am not too familiar with, "you mean lipstick, Christine." He glances at his watch, "it's time for me to walk you down."

I nod and turn to leave the bathroom, but he catches my arm and pecks me on the lips. "Remember, once we are out of this room, I put on an act. I need to act like another soldier around you. Okay?" I nod again and try not to think of the soldier that attacked me.

Raoul is not like that.

I am led into a grand foyer where lots of fancy tables are set up. D̶e̶s̶t̶l̶e̶r̶- Erik is already here. He looks d̶i̶v̶i̶n̶e̶, wearing a black suit, white shirt and a bow around his neck. It is almost too easy to forget the mask he wears.

"Christine," he greets and I smile in return. His eyes look over my head and he nods. "I'll take it from here, sergeant." I feel Raoul's absence immediately. A chandelier is hung from the ceiling, grand and elaborate in every form. I don't blink twice. I am drawn to the small spectrum of colours that are blinking against the wall.

I walk towards it.

A steady arm is around my waist. "Where do you think you are going?" I try to pull back, but his grip stays firm, moulding me against his body.

"I wanted to look at the rainbow on the wall." I whisper, trying to pull my body away from his. "I've never seen one before."

He doesn't reply, only pulls me towards the centre of the room where guests are beginning to gather. "Smile and be polite. If you're not, the boy will get it. Actually, he probably should be hung, drawn and quartered after the kiss you shared in the bathroom earlier."

I feel my face go red and eyes fill up, but I nod, putting on the cheerful facade for Raoul's sake.

Oh Raoul.


	7. Chapter 7

**hey guys, how are you. Sorry it's kinda late. Let me know what you think by typing a lil review pleeeaassee x**

**xXx**

"I'm Nadir Khan," a man greets us warmly and he enters the large room. I'm surprised to find him without a girl on his arm. That's what most men here have. I suppose I am one of them, too.

I don't know why, but I know the man - Nadir. Recognition suddenly clicks and my face must be a picture because he's chuckling at me. Erik is not amused though.

"What do you find so amusing, Daroga?" He snarls the words under his lips.

"My dear, I do not believe we have had the chance to become acquainted." He says, pulling my hand to his mouth for a kiss. "You know my name, so I should know yours." I look to Erik for confirmation, and when he sighs and nods, I look at Nadir.

"I'm Christine Daae."

"I know you!" He exclaims suddenly, causing one or two guests to falter conversation to stare. "You can sing."

I shift uncomfortably, yet Erik's hand is like a shackle around my waist, constantly pressing me against his body. "I remember!" The dark skinned man is still talking. "I auditioned and accepted you. What a voice!" I can only concentrate on Erik's hand, it is suddenly trailing lazy circles around my hip bone, visible through the dress. I̶t̶ ̶f̶e̶e̶l̶s̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶g̶o̶o̶d̶.

"I thought I recognised you." I smile weakly, my eyes wanting to roll back in pleasure. Erik's eyes don't leave my face. "You haven't changed in the slightest, sir."

"Christine child, you had such a wonderful voice; your father will be dancing in heaven. He was such a kind man-" A raw pain shoots through my chest and I'm breaking, falling apart all over the marble floor.

"Christine," it's Erik. Nadir has vanished. "Remember to breathe, girl."

I pull myself together in a sharp breath. I am a plate; smashed into a million pieces but unable to find the majority. I am broken.

A man walks through the door and everybody's eyes are on him. He lazily strolls towards Erik and I, and I shrink into Erik. He is a pureblood male. He seems to notice me which causes Erik's hand clutching my hip press impossibly tighter; guarding me close.

The man has dark black hair, slicked back into place with a white suit on. His eyes are an emerald green and teeth unnaturally straight as he smiles at me. It is not a kind smile. His nose is very straight and his jaw line very strong. He is walking with a stick, though it is clear he does not need it. A gold eagle is looking at me, half covered by the mans fingers.

"Erik," he greets, uninterested. "How are you, my son? But a better question is who is his beautiful young lady?" He laughs before pulling me out of Erik's vicelike grip and kissing me on the cheeks. "Now, what is your name?" He has hold of my hand. He is smiling that predatory smile.

"Christine," I say, trying to slip my hand from his; he will not have it.

"You're what? Erik's mistress? My, my Erik. You have certainly chosen well this time," he is calling over my shoulder, "what was the last woman's name? Becky, Becca, Bethany?" His hand is trailing down my jaw, and I see lust in his eyes. "_Christine_, however is such a beautiful creature." His eyes are focused now, running snakes up and down my body. I just want my papa. "Such extraordinary eyes."

"She is my fiancée, I am glad you approve." The words are stiff on his lips as he pulls me back to his side. "Now, if you will excuse us we have a party to host."

_**xXx**_

People are dancing. Women's dresses are swirling around the floor; coppers, pinks, greens. But no red. I am the only one in red. I sip on some champagne as Erik talks to different people. He is quite the conversationalist. I've never had champagne before. I don't even think I'm allowed it. The bubbles keep on going up my nose. Erik has turned his gaze to me, inviting me into the conversation. They look very rich. The man, a rotund small thing is smiling at me. He is wearing a burgundy suit, gold chains hanging around his neck. The woman with him is quite plain. She has red hair worn up in a bun, purple lips and a scary smile. Her dress is matches her lips and looks to be made of silk. It sucks her waist in before shooting out, frills flying everywhere. In my opinion she is much too extravagant.

"Christine, this is Carlotta and Piangi of Cape Town. We are fortunate to have them with us tonight." Erik introduces. Piangi kisses my hand and Carlotta curtsies.

Where is Cape Town?

"It's an honour," I say, curtsying, hoping I'm doing the right thing.

"When are you two love birds getting married?" I hear Carlotta purr. She has an accent I can't place.

"Hopefully soon," Erik replies.

I can't hear. Everything is suddenly foggy.

"Excuse me," I hear myself mumble as I stagger away towards what I hope is the bathroom.

"Christine," The voice I've been longing to hear for the majority of my life hisses.

"Raoul," I giggle, "what are you doing here?"

"Where are you going?" I feel his arms shift around me as he drags me out of the big wooden doors. The silence from the chatter and the music is deafening. He sits me on a chair, and crouches down in front of me, fingers clasped.

My head is pounding.

"Christine," his voice is a low croon, and I can't help but compare his to Erik's. "I need you to tell me- did you accept any drinks off people you didn't know?"

"No," I thinking so hard my brain hurts. "I've just been having lots of champagne."

"Ok," his palm covers his face, slowly massaging the temple. "Look, I need to get you back in there. If I don't, Destler will come looking for you. Sober up, Christine."

"Raoul," I can't breathe. "I...I...lov-" I choke.

"You what, Christine?"

"I don't...I can't-"

His lips are suddenly cutting off my words and I cling to him desperately. He's like water in a desert and I've been lost for weeks, parched. I drink his smell, flavor, warmth. I may never feel this again. My heart is pounding frantically in a six-eight rhythm. I'm choking on my love for this boy...no, this man. He pulls away and I'm like a drug addict. I need him. He doesn't say a word to me, just walks away from me down the hall. I want to scream that it hurts when he doesn't speak of me, but my heart is so happy it's skipping in my ears.

"Christine." I look to see Erik's father gazing at me in false concern.

"Sargent." He acknowledges Raoul with a tilt to his head as Raoul salutes back.

"Come along Christine, Erik wishes to see you." Taking his wrinkled hand, I allow him to pull me towards the wooden doors, sparing only one glance back at Raoul.

He is nowhere to be seen.


	8. Chapter 8

**I don't own any of this, just borrowing! Read and review pretty please with a cherry on top? **

"Christine," the voice is foggy, a mixture of concern and joy. "Christine," it's getting clearer. If only I could open my eyes and see who wants me. The blackness behind my eyes never ends and I'm fighting off swarms of darkness.

"Christine!" I'm jostled awake by a hiss. I feel awful. "Rise and shine, love." It's Erik. L̶u̶c̶k̶i̶l̶y̶ disturbingly he hasn't got his shirt on yet, his hands making invisible patterns on his torso. He looks...brighter for a strange reason. A glance at my surroundings and my heart falls out of my mouth and onto the floor. I'm in Erik's bedroom, with Erik, he's semi naked...so does that mean?

A quick glance under the crisp sheet and I find I am wearing nothing but my underwear and a top that falls far enough to cover the things that are supposed to be covered. A rage overtakes me and I'm up out of he bed, spitting in Erik's face.

"What the hell did you do to me?!" Rage is seeping from every pore. "Did you think it would be funny, huh? To get me drunk on some fancy drink- which tasted like shit- only to then have you take advantage of me?" I stand there, face red with anger and embarrassment moulded into one. Erik's eyes lazily travel my form before he lets out a laugh.

He _laughs_.

"Nothing happened, Christine." He holds his palms out in a gesture of innocence, then changes his mind: touches his lips. "We danced for a while, my father constantly watching us. We drank a little more, and then we came back here. If anything, you were the one who wanted to take things further than our relationship now. Being the true gentleman I am, I slept in a guest room down the hall, which is why when you woke I was putting on my shirt."

My mouth is opening and closing like the goldfish I remembered having when I was ten.

I sink back into the bed and pull the sheets up towards me.

"Christine, my dear, I wish to take you out today."

"Take me out?" As doubtful as I am, I can hardly hide the excitement shining out of my eyes as I count the years I haven't been outside for.

"Yes, go get changed and I will meet you at the front door. Your guard will bring you to me." He eyes me once more, "oh and put these on. I don't want any more of my men raping you in the hallways." I feel like I have been slapped by a thousand hands. Why had he turned so cold? He hands me a pair of what I presume are his old pants. They're too big around the waist, although they are elasticated but he just smiles slightly when I point it out. "Just go. I will be waiting for you."

X

Freshly dressed and waiting for Raoul to show up, I stare at my reflection. When had I gotten so skinny?

The only thing I could find in the armoire was a silvery dress. It shimmers like the skin of a fish. It falls just below the knee and tightens in on my frame. The top of the dress ties in spaghetti straps, and I shrug on the thick woollen coat, a deep green colour, and sigh with bliss. How long had it been since I had worn a coat?

A gentle knock on the door tells me Raoul has arrived and I run to answer it. Instead of Raoul's handsome face smiling in at me, a soldier is encased in the shadows, holding himself up using a crutch.

I feel for the poor man.

He looks up; my heart stops.

Raoul. My poor beautiful Raoul.

Rushing out to see him, he rasps through stiff lips, "don't."

I stop in my tracks. His face is marred in ugly purple bruises, and he's walking with a limp. His hair is disheveled underneath his cap and every shallow breath he takes echoes in his chest; a constant wheeze.

"What happened to you?"

"Itdoesntmatter." It's an exhale.

"Oh god." I take a step towards him lifting my hand to touch his face, when he pulls back, flinching.

"Who did this to you?" I ask, anger seeping into the vowels and consonants.

"There are cameras everywhere, Christine. Please...just-" he coughs violently, a rattle in his chest. "Oh, god. This wasn't how I wanted to tell you, but I guess I have too."

What's he going on about?

Taking a deep, rattling breath, he began. "I promise this to you Christine, I will get us outta here as soon as I can. Maybe when we're free from here, we can go and see the old beach house, yeah?" He leant forward, his palms splayed forwards in a familiar gesture: openness. "We can go and see the animals in the zoo, the different operas that they have nowadays- hell! We could even just sit in a house until we're grey and wrinkled and it wouldn't bother me. As long as I am with you, Christine, I would do anything."

My heart is a hummingbird beating frantically against its cage as I whisper, "why?"

He looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together, before finally looking at me straight in the eyes. "Because I love you Christine Daae, and I have done ever since the day I was born."

he loves me

he loves me

he loves me

"I-I love you too." It is the best response I can come up with. Except I don't say it out loud.

"But for now," he continues almost sorrowful, "we have to stay away from each other. But I will get us out of here, I promise."

Shuffling down the corridor, he opens a large door and I see Erik standing with his back turned.

"De Chagny," he dismisses. Turning to face me, I try not to get lost in the colour of his eyes. "Christine," he hardly acknowledges me, simply opting to grab my wrist and pull me outside.

But once we're outside, it's a different story...

The clouds are a bleak grey, frigid like they have always been; but they're different. I can _breathe_. The sun is up up up in the sky, blowing kisses on to my arms and face. I must have wrenched my hand from his grip, because I am dancing. Reaching up to touch the sun, swirling directions wherever the wind blows but mostly _**I am breathing**_. I can't get enough if it. I am a lost child who has suddenly been offered food, warmth and a bed to sleep in. I am overwhelmed.

Destler- Erik grabs my hand. I see the strangest thing carved into his face.

He's smiling- not forced or strained, but a real, genuine smile.

"This makes you happy?" He gestures around us to the world. The world that could have been better; friendlier.

"After being trapped," I see him wince, "for so long, you learn not to take for granted the little things you have in life."

He stares for so long blood rushes up to my face and I'm blink blink blinking, trying to not be charmed (it doesn't work.)

Instead of answering, he pulls out a gun and examines it, the sun reflecting off it. His finger placed firmly over the trigger, he turns and looks at me. I'm radiating horror and disbelief.

He laughs. "It's not for you, relax."

A distant rumble under my feet makes me jump until I see thousands of men march towards me and Erik. Stopping only centimetres away from us, the raise their hands in a salute. All of them are wearing blue with a blue cap with white stripes.L̶i̶k̶e̶ R̶a̶o̶u̶l̶'̶s̶.

Erik grabs a black thing out of his pocket and begins to speak through it.

"Sector 23."

The entire group shifts leaving a block of men standing forward.

"We are here today, to discuss a serious crime. Phillips, do you have the allegations?"

"Yes, sir." A tall broad man steps forward and begins to recite his words as though he were no more than a robot. "Joseph Buquet. ID number: 22121898. He was found stealing resources from our beverage supply. Not only that, but he violated a young woman and security cameras recorded it. We have the proof if you need it, sir."

Erik's gaze is locked on Buquet, whose brow was beginning to sweat. Upon looking at him I know he is the guard who nearly raped me and a great shudder runs up through my body. A whimper falls from my mouth and Erik calmly asks him:

"Do you deny these accusations, soldier?"

Buquet is openly crying now, his face an ugly red and hair stuck to his head with sweat. "No, sir."

His voice cracks when he says it.

Erik nods once. Takes a deep breath and releases it as a disappointed sigh. Blinks twice.

And shoots him right in the forehead.


	9. Chapter 9

**how are you guys? Hope you have had a great weekend! I'm excited because I get to see my little cousin soon (I never get to see him because of family problems) And I love him so much and he's the coolest two year old ever. Anyway, onwards!**

**r&r**

_xXx_

No one moves, breathes. The men are speaking without talking. I can't even discern where I am anymore. A dull throb is spreading like a cancer throughout my bones. I'm going to be sick.

Someone's arm is around my waist, pulling me towards the large doors leading back inside. I can't stop looking at Joseph's body lying crumpled on the floor.

"Christine." He is acting like he is concerned.

"No." It's a quiet, calm command. "You don't get to touch me." I wrench myself from his grip and scramble as far away as I can from him. "I don't touch murderers."

"Christine, see reason." He says, his hands splayed outwards in a gesture of innocence. "I did it for you."

I can feel the air suffocating my lungs as I heave a shaky breath in. "You would kill someone for- for me?"

His eyes darken, "I would do _anything_ for you, Christine."

"I can't believe-" I cut off; I'm choking. I collapse to the floor, images of my homeland calling to me; ripped in half by Joseph Buquet's pale, sweaty face staring at me, his life sucked away from him and it starts all over again.

I can't breathe I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't-

"Christine, I need you to take deep breaths," I feel cold hands slither along the column of my neck.

"Don't kill me," I manage to gasp out. I am a fish out of water.

"Good god, I would never-" he breaks off. But my chest is vibrating with sobs and I can't hold it in any more. I feel my hands go up around Erik's neck and he scoops me up, holding me close to his chest.

"I want you to copy my movements, ok?" I feel him place my hand to his chest, taking deliberate long breaths. Slowly but surely, my chest begins to copy his and I'm nearly breathing properly again.

"Raoul," I say and I feel his arms stiffen, then drop me onto a plush couch that sucks me down, nearly folding me in half. "Why did you beat Raoul up?" I ask; did this man have any good traits?

"You can blame my father for that," he says, raising a hand to lips, tracing their outline. "He thought he was leading you astray as he caught both of you outside the hall having a romantic rendezvous."

I feel my cheeks burning and lean forward, using my hair as a barrier between us. "How did you know?" I ask weakly through my hair.

"I'm not stupid, Christine. If anything, I'm quite clever. But you don't know that, do you? Because," he is angry, shouting at me and I'm lost in his eyes, "because you don't give a shit, Christine. You're so infatuated with that little boy, you don't even seem to realise that I'm here too."

I am angry now; rage seeping from my eyes turning my view black. "How dare you," I seeth, "how dare you come along and accuse me of not paying attention to you. You know, Erik you've hit the nail on he head because truthfully, I really don't give a shit. Why should I? You have blackmailed me into coming here, getting engaged to you - still waiting for that ring, though, and you expect me to hang onto your every word like a puppy with its master? Is it wrong for me to love Raoul when he is the only one who treats me like I'm a human?"

"_Love_?" I hear him laugh, "is that what you think your pathetic infatuation with the boy is?" He laughs again. But it's an angry, crazed laugh. "You know, Christine, I've figured out your problem. You wish to be wrapped in cotton wool and be told everything is alright. But it isn't," his hand suddenly points to the door we walked in through, "I have just had to kill one of my men under my fathers orders. And don't get me wrong, I love to watch the life drain from my victims, but he died for nothing! I'm not here to tell you that everything is going to be ok, you stupid little girl. I'm here to keep up false pretences by marrying you and doing my father proud."

"I hate you." I say with as much conviction as I can. My anger had ebbed like a balloon slowly being let out.

"You don't," he has moved closer to me. "If you hated me," his breath is fanning my face; crisp and cool. "you wouldn't let me do this."

I am about to ask what he means, but then he's kissing me and I'm kissing him back and I don't know what demonic plague has took over me, but I'm kissing him back and he's so beautiful and he's kissing me. His lips move to my neck, biting the skin there; leaving his mark. I've moulded myself into his body, while he returns to my lips, desperation, anger and something else hidden in his eyes.

"Stop," I manage to say against his lips, "we shouldn't do this, not with Raoul and all."

He laughs again, gently; almost sadly. "We're _engaged_, Christine. You make it sound like we're having an affair, not the other way round."

I don't know what to say back so I whisper, "sorry," it's the best I can come up with.

"Go to bed, Christine. It's been a long day for all of us." I nod, suddenly near tears and turn to leave. "Oh and tomorrow, my father is coming over with his wife, I'll see to it that you have something extra special for tomorrow." I nod again.

"Goodnight, Erik."

"Goodnight, Christine."


	10. Chapter 10

**_this is half of the whole chapter (if that makes sense?) I didn't know whether to break it in half or just leave it. I broke it in half lol._**

**_New character! Tell me what you guys think of Gabrielle and Erik's father?_**

_**R&R**_

_"Why don't you just kill yourself?" I remember someone asked me as I passed them in the corridor._

_I think they meant it as a cruel joke; a way to pick on the lost, teenage orphan. But as I went to my dorm room that night, I seriously contemplated the possibility. Why shouldn't I? I had nobody left to miss me, I could just slit my wrists and get it over with. I would suddenly be everyone's best friend, they'd speak of how much they loved me and how I would have been missed; some even faking tears. Only for a month or two, though._

_I'd always hoped that maybe someone would see behind the cracks running down my body, knock them down and rebuild me, filling me with love and tenderness. I thought that maybe they would try to listen when I would talk._

_I guess I had always had that __**awful**__ hope_.

xXx

"Christine, _darling_," I hear Erik's father call me. I am passed over to him like a trophy. "You look exquisite."

"Thank you Mr Destler." I reply, avoiding his eyes. He gives me the creeps. I am shocked, however, when he laughs.

"Good god, child. That isn't my name," when I stare in confusion, he explains. "I'm Anderson. My _son_ here wouldn't take my name. Kept his mothers. Besides, it's easier on base if we have different names. Less confusing, do you see my view on it?" His cane is swinging uselessly in his hand, as he talks to me about politics and things I don't understand.

I have been locked up the whole time the government has been overturned. of course I don't understand.

I sit next to Erik at a large oval table as I smile falsely and sip at the wine in my hand.

Anderson's wife is staring at me. She looks to be only slightly older than me; I almost balk in disgust at the age difference. Her brown hair is braided, falling down to touch the skin of her bare back (her dress is cut out). Her eyes are the brightest green I have ever seen. A straight nose and full, luscious lips show off white straight teeth. I can understand why Anderson married her - based off looks. She is a strange type of beautiful; a black swan.

Her eyes are boring into mine from across the table and she leans over and whispers in her husbands ear. Smiling she stands walking towards me.

"Christine and I are going to the bathroom. We will be as long as we ladies deem necessary." Grabbing my hand, she pulls me outside the large wooden doors, flashing a smile to a guard whose face reddens considerably at the beautiful woman.

Once inside the bathroom, her smile drops and she locks the door soundly, proceeding then to check under the sink, inside the cubicle and every other crack and crevice.

"What are you doi-"

"Shhh!" She interrupts as she fiddles with an ornament laying on the sink. "There. We should be fine now."

She turns to face me and I almost shrink back at the intensity in her eyes. "Christine, you need to get out of here." She grabs my hands and I notice they are clammy and cold, "get out of here before he weds you."

"Why?" I ask, not wanting to know the answer.

"It hurts, Christine. The wedding night. It hurts so much. And they after that, they think they can use you whenever they like. Such selfish bastards, the lot of them. Y'know, before I met Luke," at my confused gaze she clarifies, "-Anderson, I was dating a wonderful boy. He was called Aaron and had blue forget-me-not eyes and red hair. I loved him so much." A small sad smile tugs the corner of her lips. "But then he became a soldier, joined sector 33. Luke was in charge of that particular sector. He saw me and must have liked what he saw. He spoke to Aaron, must have told him he wanted me; and done. I was his. He already had a wife, you know -Madeline or something. Rumours say that she is still alive but crippled badly, she depends on her sons for care."

"Sons? Like, plural?" I can't hear over the rushing of my ears.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. She has Destler, that we all know, but there is another son. A son whom nobody has ever seen before." Sighing, she looks at a gold watch. "We had best get back, before those two start a fight."

I shrug and turn to leave, but a hand grabs my arm, the nails digging into my skin.

"Honestly, though Christine. Run. Be free. Get anyone to help you escape."

"Come with me?" I plead, "I'd never get far without you."

She laughs bitterly, her lips quirked in a humourless smile; she looks murderous. "It's too late for me, Christine. I'm pregnant. I'm going to be giving birth in a few months, I'll be no use to be going on the run with. I hate him, Christine. _Hate_ him. But I love the child growing in my womb and that's as twisted as anyone can get. I'll protect my child, no matter what."

I nod in awe; I can understand her point completely. She had been raped and yet still had the kindness to show the foetus love. I suddenly feel stupid for asking, "what is your name?"

"Gabrielle," she says easily, "we are sisters."

Placing a hand on the fabric of my dress over my heart, she repeats the statement. "We are sisters."

After that we sit back down and smile falsely and sip our wine.

But I can't stop thinking about escaping.


End file.
